The Master’s Servant.

Bethlehem

Judea, circa 33 A.D.

Achzari, a gnarly attitude etched in his face, swiped huge sweat beads from his forehead with the sleeve of his woolen tunic. Ezra, his son, and daughter Eliana, rested from labor in his barley field.  They slurped a few draughts of water from the goat skins slung across the back of his aging brown and white donkey, Tikvah.

Achzari inspected her legs and hooves. She limped with each step.

About a month earlier Tikvah birthed.  Her colt stood next to her.

In Achzari’s mind, Tikvah had outlived her usefulness, no longer able to carry the burden of grain to market or help plow the grain fields.

Tikvah’s colt nuzzled her seeking milk.

Eliana had named the mother, Tikvah, as a reminder of Elohim’s promises.  A suitable name for the colt perplexed her.

With the Romans breathing threats and executions, Israel craved deliverance.

The poorer Jews looked to the growing fame of Yeshua, a young carpenter who had become a leprosy healer. Not only did he heal diseases and the sightless, he raised to life rotting flesh.

The fame of Lazarus who only days earlier lay decaying for four days in the tomb, rising at the command of this rabbi, spread like the sweeping shadows of dusk and dawn sun across the countryside.

Israel needed a resurrection.

More and more the people turned to Yeshua for solutions to their conquered miseries.

Achzari frowned, exaggerating the wrinkles in his dark skin.  “Take this worthless beast and sell her.  We’ll keep the colt.   If not sold in three days, you know what to do.” He turned to his son.

Eliana grabbed her father's arm. “Please don’t slaughter the animal.  She’s a faithful servant to you, Father. And to us.”  She sent a pleading gaze to her brother.

Achzari wiped his brow again. “We can’t feed every mouth that can’t contribute. That’s all I have to say about this.  We can atleast profit from her meat with the purchase of more barley seeds.” He turned away.  “Besides, we can’t eat her.  She’s unclean. But the Romans will.”

“No, Father, please. . .please.

Eliana’s pitiful begging softened his heart a little.  He tied Tikvah to a pine tree.  The colt didn’t leave her side.

“Three days. No more.”

When her father and brother departed, Eliana threw her arms around the animal’s neck and cried.

Tikvah brayed in response to the emotion.

Even if sold, no promise of a better life or merciful end. The Romans might try to put her to task, but, given the pronounced hobbles, more than likely her life wouldn’t last much past her sale.

At the close of three days, no one had purchased Tikvah.  Her inability to tread without limping discouraged any transactions.

Eliana pleaded with her father repeatedly and earned another three days.

At the close of this extension of time, late afternoon, two men dressed in plain tunics and sandals knocked upon Achzari’s wooden door to his modest stone home.

Achzari stepped out to speak with them.

Eliana stood behind at her table cutting up dates.  A timid fire glowed in the hearth behind her.

John, a young man whose beard hadn’t filled in spoke first. “My name is John.”

“And I’m Peter.” The stocky man with a full beard added. “Our master needs your beasts.”

"Who is this master you speak of?"

Peter, held his breath for a moment, attempting to control the sarcasm he felt errupting with his response. "Yeshua, of Nazareth. You haven't heard of him?  Who hasn't heard of him? He instructed us to come to you for these beasts."

"Why mine?"

John sighed. "You can ask him when you see him.  We don't know.  We didn't ask. He wouldn't have sent us, if he didn't have need."

"How did he know about my animals?"

John moved a step closer to Achzari. "He's a prophet. You can ask him when you see him." 

“The colt isn’t for sale,” Achzari said.  “Only the mother.”

The men approached the two animals. John walked Tikvah and noticed her stumbling.  “Our master needs both.”

“The colt isn’t for sale.” Achzari declared again his tone firm.

“We’re not looking to buy, only to borrow.  We will pay you for their use as well.” Peter added.

“How much?”

“Five day’s wages.  The cost of travel to Jerusalem and back to return them to you.”

Achzari thought deeply about this.  Immediate money prompted him to agree to the arrangement.

John placed a leather pouch of coins in Achzari’s hand.  The man counted the denarii. Satisfied, Achzari allowed them to takeTikvah and her colt.

“Praise You, Elohim!” Eliana clasped her hands a huge smile painting her face.  “Tikvah lives longer.  Still, the problem exists. When she returns she will die.  Mercy Elohim.”

A few days later, this little beast with no name carried Yeshua through the streets of Jerusalem.  Tikvah limped alongside as people, waving palm branches cried, “Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.”

At the close of the day, the little donkey and Tikvah refused to leave the healer-prophet.  They refused to follow John and Peter back to Bethlehem the next day.

Yeshua’s disciples agreed to pay for the extra time and took up a collection amongst themselves.

Bartholomew offered a large sum from the sale of an amphorae of garum, a desired fish sauce relished by the soldiers. “I’ve a sense, we need to purchase them, especially to save the mother’s life.”

John and Peter returned to Bethlehem to negotiate a sale.

“Where are my animals?” Achzari demanded upon seeing the disciples. “You steal my beasts?”

Peter shook his head.  “Of course not. We wish to purchase them and will pay you a good sum for both.”

“The colt isn’t for sale.”

Peter studied Achzari. “What price would you set for the animal, if you were to sell?”

After much wrangling, Achzari insisted on a month’s wages.  John and Peter reluctantly agreed, thankful the price wasn’t more as there weren’t enough denarii to cover a higher cost.

A few days later after the Jewish priests accused Yeshua of treason, Pontius Pilate the Roman governor, ordered his crucifixion.

On that mournful day, the donkeys followed Yeshua to Golgotha, the rock of execution.  They stood at His cross while His spirit departed.

When an eerie darkness fell across the land, the shadow of the crucifix fell upon Tikvah and her colt’s backs as permanent markings.

Upon hearing of this miracle, Eliana named the little donkey, Eved Ha'adon, Hebrew for, The Master’s Servant.

Over two thousand years later, and still the backs of donkeys are marked with a cross in memory of their devotion.

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